


It's Dangerous To Hope

by desperationandgin



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-27
Updated: 2014-12-27
Packaged: 2018-03-03 20:38:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2886761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/desperationandgin/pseuds/desperationandgin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On Christmas Day, Henry has a surprise gift for Regina that turns out to be better than she ever expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Dangerous To Hope

**Author's Note:**

> Written for reginaoflocksley on tumblr as a Christmas gift. She requested reunion smut, so I hope this worked well :)

For a week, Henry’s been teasing that he has the perfect gift for his mom, that she’ll never be able to guess. That Emma helped and it’s the best present ever. So, when all the gifts on Christmas morning are opened and Henry insists there’s still one more, Regina’s confused, even more so when he declares he’s going to Emma’s for more gifts when they’re both supposed to go to Snow and David’s later. It happens so quickly that she’s disheartened, bordering on actual upset when the doorbell rings. She has no idea who would be on her front porch at ten in the morning on Christmas Day, and when she opens the door, there’s no one.

She’s really not in the mood.

As she goes to shut the door, something on the ground catches her eye and her heart slams, thuds against her rib cage as she bends down to pick up one perfect, golden arrow. Her eyes are immediately scanning her yard then, and she wants to call out his name, wants to give in to the hope she’s been keeping pushed firmly aside, but she can’t. She can’t let herself hope because it’s too dangerous, it leads to being distraught and heartbroken all over again. But then she doesn’t have to say anything at all as a voice behind her speaks.

“Happy Christmas, milady.”

It’s been nearly a year. Eleven months without hearing his voice or seeing his face, and she’s frozen now, her back to him as she clutches the arrow tightly in one hand.

“I thought about leaving a pinecone on your porch, but Henry thought that a tad too vague.”

_Where you come from, people bathe in the river and use pinecones for money._

Her vision blurs then, lips quirking up in a wobbly smile.

“When I told him those arrows were the first gift you ever gave me, he said it was a perfect calling card.”

His voice is getting closer and when he touches her elbow she breaks, a sob falling from her mouth as she turns and faces Robin for the first time. He has a touch more gray at his temples, but everything’s still the same,  _he’s_  still the same, and his lips are crashing down on hers before she can say a word, the arrow dropping from her hands as she kisses him with eleven months worth of pent up missing him. She has so many questions, how and when and  _for how long_ , but she can’t think to make words work as he lifts her in his arms, closing her front door behind them.

“I’ve missed you,” he breathes out, his voice husky and low with emotion, and he puts her down on solid ground again when her back is against the front door, his hands cradling her face.

She’s crying, she’s a mess, all of the tears she never shed when he left pouring out of her now, and she laughs with her pure joy, a smile lighting her up from the inside out.

“That’s what I’ve missed the most. What I’ve dreamt of.” He has to kiss her, has to capture that smile (elusive now because he had to go, he imagines, elusive because of him) with his own mouth. He kisses her as if he’s a dying man, and perhaps he has been without her, because now, for the first time in too long he feels alive, feels something other than gnawing loneliness and guilt. He has missed her, and now, now he’s never letting go again.

Hands are pushing at clothing before it registers in her mind, clothes are coming off and scattering along her entryway in a haphazard pile, and she doesn’t care. She doesn’t care because it means warm hands on her skin -  _his_ warm hands on her skin, and when he rakes them up her sides and around so that he can cup her breasts and thumb at her nipples she hears her head hit the back of the door with an audible whack. One of his hands slides around to cradle her there, to give her some padding as his mouth blazes a hot trail down her neck and God, she’s missed him, she’s missed this fire he stokes in her belly and her hands move to glide over his chest, one of them stopping to rest over his heart.

“I love you.”

She says it breathlessly, maybe recklessly because she doesn’t even know if he can stay, if he’s hers yet, but now it tumbles out of her again and again.  _I love you_ , and her silk pajama pants are off, his hand slips between them and she shivers, breathes the words out again across his lips.

“My love.” His voice is rich over the words. “I love you.” He’s always loved her, loved her heart, loved the sadness she carries in squared, proud shoulders, loves the light in her eyes, the boldness of her, the sheer brilliance of her when she is in her element. He loves the quiet of her in the early morning when the world is just the two of them and nothing else, and he loves, perhaps more than anything, the way she sounds under his fingers and tongue, the way she sounds when she is clenching and hot around him, and he can’t; he can’t deny himself any longer and his thumb presses against her beneath her underwear and against her clit, groaning to find her slick and warm already. Her moan goes straight to his cock and he intends to move slow, intends to savor, but her hips are moving and he realizes she has other plans.

Her hands push at his trousers, push at his briefs, and then one wraps around his cock. He’s already hard, she wets her lips at the feel of him, drags her thumb across the tip, and she has a vision of them against her front door, both driving the other to climax with hands and stroking as his fingers move faster against her, two of them sinking into her. She cries out his name, and she can’t wait, doesn’t want to wait any longer. Guiding him close, her hand falls away and she lets him take it the rest of the way, jaw dropping as he fills her for the first time, in too long, it’s been too long. But he’s slow and he asks if she’s okay, and all she can do is nod mutely at the feel of being connected with him again. It feels…it feels,  _it feels_ , and her heart that is black feels golden, her soul feels like it’s been given life again, and she moves with him, needs him, legs wrapped around his hips as he drives into her over and over.

This is home, and this is where he needs to be, and he knew that at the town line when he was leaving her forever, but now he knows what  _soulmate_  truly means. He isn’t right without her, isn’t his whole self, and as he moves with her, breathless and faster and by her command  _harder_ , he thanks whatever deity still listens that this is resolved, that he is home and never leaving her again. He can feel that she’s close, even after months and months without her he knows, and he shifts her, drops her hips just enough for him to glide across her clit as he thrusts, over and over again. Her mouth always falls open when she’s just about to come and he watches for her, watches for when that happens, when her lips part and his name leaves her in a low cry. He lets go and thrusts harder, rutting, trying to hold her so that her shoulders won’t be sore, and then he is coming, and she’s not with him but she’s right behind him and he can’t think, he is not coherent. He is only aware of her tight around him, pulsing and pulling.

Regina can’t move and she’s glad he’s supporting, her glad for his weight against her as they breathe, panting and pressing foreheads together. She’s bent awkwardly and when they each think knees are no longer too weak he pulls back and lets her down gently. “Are you back?” she finally asks as he leans into her even though they’re untangled, his nose at her temple before kissing her there.

“I’m back. Never to leave you again.”

She isn’t sure if she believes him, doesn’t know if he can really promise such a thing. But for now he is here, and it’s Christmas, so she finds herself hoping.

In the end, it’s not so dangerous after all.


End file.
